


Knock on My Heart

by bremxxre



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, M/M, POV Second Person, Please Don't Hate Me, Short One Shot, idk this is also my first time writing in 2nd person, not sure if i like it, the 'you' means Harry, this is my first fic on AO3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bremxxre/pseuds/bremxxre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's been waiting for news, but he's not sure he wants to hear it. </p>
<p>Or, Louis is in the military and they're married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock on My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be mad, or sad. If you actually read this, I automatically love you. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with in any way, One Direction. 
> 
> I wish.

Knock.

That's all it takes for your world to end.

Knock. 

It's sort of unbelievable that a single sound can ruin every thing.

Knock.

You've spent the last eleven months in a state of apprehension, always hesitating between daily tasks. Always waiting. For what, you didn't know, but as a fist makes contact with your front door, you realize that this is it.

You're shaking as you contemplate the consequences of twisting the knob. 

Knock. 

The volume continues to increase, but you're not sure if the person is perpetually hitting the door, or if it's all in your mind. You hope it's anything except the latter; you whisper it to the deepest crevices of your brain. It's not the first time you've lied to yourself. It definitely won't be the last.

Knock.

It takes you all of fourteen seconds to give in. Patience isn't a skill you possess, though not for a lack of trying.

The blinding light of the outside world contrasts immensely with the gloomy shade of your home. It has been your shelter at the end of every day since he left. Apparently it doubled as a hospital waiting room.

Clad in uniforms that make your throat tighten sporadically, the men before you reek of experience. Not only do they wear the Nation's symbols proudly on their bodies; in addition, solemnity clothes their countenances. You lock your knees to hold yourself in place. 

Your breathing pattern falters and falls into its own rhythm. It's similar to the beating of a hummingbird's wings mid-flight. 

When their lips begin moving you feel the blood rush to your ears.

"Are you Mr. Tomlinson?" The voices are distorted, but you hear them reverberate through your brain. You nod because you're not quite sure how to form words.

The blood pounds, a welcome ache, but you wish it would erase your memory. This pain is cruel and unwanted. 

You've tried to prepare yourself for this, but it's difficult to be ready for the implosion of your heart.

You don't need to hear the words to know they're there. 

"Your husband Louis was KIA."

Knock is the sound your skull makes as it collides with the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think in the comments below :)


End file.
